Tag Archives: Civil War

Not Just Old. But Ancient.

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gs 100th mark2 Not Just Old. But Ancient.

Yesterday morning, my first thought was not, “Today, I’m gonna feel old.” But thanks to the Girl Scouts – yes, those cute little cookie peddlers who sell sugar highs in a box – for the first time ever, I am feeling a wee bit ancient.

Not just old. Ancient.

The realization was gradual, increasing the longer I listened to Talk of Iowa on the radio. The topic was the 100th Anniversary of Girl Scouts, and the host interviewed some Girl Scout leaders and a couple honest-to-goodness present day Girl Scouts. The girls were about the same age I was during my short career as cookie salesgirl and sash wearer.

And they made me feel not just old. But ancient.

It wasn’t their fault. But, while they talked, I thought about how 1912 was a century ago for the little girls. Just like 1865 was a hundred years ago when I attended Girl Scout meetings after school in 1965. So if and when they watch a show like Downton Abbey, the events portrayed there are as long ago and far away to them as the events chronicled in Gone With the Wind were to me.

And that’s when I started feeling not just old. But ancient.

Not because the Civil War seemed like a long time ago when I was a Girl Scout. And not because 1912 is a long time ago to the girls in the radio interview. And not because 1912 didn’t seem like such a long time ago in my GS days. But because the Civil War probably didn’t seem like such a long time ago to fifty-five-year-old adults in my GS days, but I thought those people were old.

But they didn’t seem just old. They seemed ancient.

Which is how today’s Girl Scouts view everybody old enough to tuck an AARP membership card next to the packet of Metamucil in their wallets, old enough to wear sensible shoes, sport age spots, and wear pants with elastic waistbands.

They view us as not just old. But ancient.

Oh my, the depression is coming on thick and fast. I think there’s only one way to fight this thing. I’m gonna find a Girl Scout, buy a box of Thin Mints, and snarf down the whole box. After all, my mom says old people like me have earned the right to eat whatever they want. And she ought to know.

‘Cause she’s not just old. She’s ancient.

Glory

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shapeimage 1 357 300x217 Glory

The 1989 movie Glory, starring Matthew Broderick, Denzel Washington, Morgan Freedman and many other stand out actors, is a fantastic, unforgettable film. Meticulously researched and produced, viewers enter the Civil War era as the story of the Union Army’s first black regiment during the Civil War unfolds.

Matthew Broderick is so not Ferris Bueller as Colonel Robert Shaw, the young officer in command of the regiment. The racism his soldiers face while fighting for their country and transforms Shaw from a dashing young officer into a compassionate, mature regimental commander. Washington, Freedman and the other actors playing the foot soldiers are complex heros, each one as brave as he is flawed. The entire movie is beautifully filmed and brilliantly acted. Without giving away the last battle scene, all I can say is that it will give you hope and break your heart simultaneously.

But take warning – This movie is too intense, impacting, and realistic to see alone. I learned this one night years ago when no one else was home, and I watched the video. In tears when the film ended, I vowed to never watch it again. I stuck to my guns (no pun intended) until this Thanksgiving when everybody trooped (again no pun intended) to my sister’s basement for a moviefest. After a mental pep talk about being tough, I joined them, and was glad I did, despite shedding a river of tears again. As before, the movie increased my awareness of what generations of Americans us did to ensure the freedom we enjoy today.

If you haven’t seen Glory, you should. And if you have seen it already, it’s worth seeing again. It’s worth watching with your kids who are adolescents or older. They need to see it. It’s a life-changing movie, because it will leave you humble and grateful. And you will never, never take for granted again the freedom we enjoy in America.

Muriel & Me

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shapeimage 1 614 300x171 Muriel & Me

One of the shining delights of this trip to San Diego, and there were many, was a visit with my grandfather’s cousin Muriel. She’s our family historian, so seven months ago my sister, Hiram and I flew out to pick her brain.

When this speaking engagement in San Diego materialized, along with a free guest ticket to the tea, I immediately invited Muriel. She immediately accepted the invitation. During the tea we didn’t have much time to chat, but afterwards we went to a little coffee shop and spent a couple hours catching up with one another.

In the seven months since we last met, the two Iranian immigrants Muriel had opened her home to moved out and are now in their own apartment. She’s still enjoying the “Read Through the Bible” class she attends one evening a week at her church. She’s also joined a writers’ group where she’s received valuable suggestions about how to expand and refine the biography she’s writing about her grandparents, Fred and Tabitha Hess, who are my great-great grandparents.

She hopes to pursue publication of the biography and the more than one hundred letters Fred wrote to Tabitha during his four year enlistment as a Union Civil War soldier. “And if I don’t get it published,” she told me, “it’s still valuable mental exercise.”

Did I mention that Muriel is eighty-one years old? As she shared the unfolding events of her life, my admiration for this remarkable woman grew, along with my gratitude for her single-handed efforts in recording and saving our family history.

After we said our good-byes and I watched her drive away, one thought came to mind. When I grow up, I want to be just like Muriel.